


The Jesus Freak's Made Me Do It

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Character Study, Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-04
Updated: 2007-10-04
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: If you've ever wondered just why Jack suddenly decided to take that promotion to head Homeworld Security in D.C. - this is one option.





	The Jesus Freak's Made Me Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Takes place during season 8 somewhere between "THREADS" and "MOEBIUS, PART 1".

I am suddenly struck with the need to write. Not just write because I have a report due or even because I have an assignment for this class I'm taking – but really write. Write because I need to get my thoughts down on paper and out of my head – or at least into my laptop.

Daniel does it all the time -everywhere. Stacks of Journals litter every surface in his home and office. I never really understood it – until today.

I'm still not sure what possessed me to take this class. After all, silver haired Air Force Generals have no place in the classroom on a college campus. I have too much responsibility and to little time to be wasting in a classroom 3 nights a week, learning about prose and poetry, and the art of free association writing. My attendance is an apt reflection. I'm lucky if I make it once a week. 

My instructor, an associate professor young enough to be my daughter, understands my situation and she e-mails notes and assignments to the base when I don't make it. She says the attendance, or rather lack thereof, will affect my grade, but as long as I turn in the assignments she is willing to let me stay, and will do what she can to help me out when I have an opening in my schedule. I'm not taking the class for a grade, so it doesn't matter.

Why am I taking this class? I honestly don't know. What I do know is I saw the flier at the supermarket. Summer Writing Workshop it said. Bored this summer? Break up the monotony with a writing class it said. 

Even my highly demanding, intensely stressful, time consuming, weight of the world directly lying on the shoulders of my command, General's Desk Job, is still a desk Job, any way you look at it. I make classified, world shattering decisions every day, but I'm still a paper pusher, and sometimes it gets monotonous. So I decided to take the class.

It takes some coordination with Chief Master Sergeant Harriman just to get me off base to attend once a week. But Walter is good people, and I think he understands my need to go, to have a few SG free hours. I think he understands more than I do.

This week was different. Calmer somehow. Things have been less intense since Oma quelled the conflict with Anubis by taking it on herself. Our latest quest is to find a ZPM or an alternative power source of some kind so that we can connect with our Outpost in Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy. It won't be easy, but without having to fight Anubis or deal with any other major Goa'uld conflict we might just have a chance. Back to scouting out the galaxy as “peaceful explorers”, just like in the good 'ole days ya know?

Somehow I was able to attend all three classes this week. And tonight as luck would have it – I didn't even have to go straight back to the base. I'm probably jinxing myself here, but there are currently no teams stuck off-world and/or missing. No immediate crisis needing to be solved or averted. No impending enemy attacks, and No teams in the infirmary.

-OK that last one is a lie – sort of. SG-1 is in the infirmary. But first off they only have minor injuries and should be released to go home by the time I get back to the base. ( I said I didn't have to go back to the base – not that I wasn't going to) Heck if Teal'c still had Junior – he'd already be up and at 'em. - But I digress, so back to my point - Secondly – SG-1 is ALWAYS – repeat ALWAYS in the infirmary. Always have been – always will be – my promotion didn't make a difference either way. In a way it's nice to know that some things never change. So the point is – SG-1 being in the infirmary with minor injuries doesn't count, and didn't keep me from going to my class.

As I headed towards the Language Arts Building tonight I spotted the Jesus Freaks up on the hill. Two were hoisting bright yellow bannered signs boasting Follow JESUS and not the church. One was carrying around a ten foot cross while bellowing fire and brimstone holy roller sentiments in all directions at once. The girls with the banners were very politely telling passersby that they were all going to hell and handing out leaflets. I chuckled to myself and politely passed by taking a leaflet and thanking the girl for it, telling her I hoped it would come in handy for me in hell. She didn't seem amused. Oh well. 

I bet there's no fish in hell. Then again there are no fish in my pond, where I fish, at all. But it's not about the fish per se, it's about the fishING – at least that's what I tell myself.(and Teal'c) Maybe I can talk the kids into a weekend fishing trip while they are recuperating. Probly not. Maybe I should stock the pond.

By the time my instructor bid us farewell for the weekend, I was primed and ready to start writing. We had had a lively and inspiring discussion. The kind where everyone is brimming with excitement and contributing ideas simultaneously and drawing inspiration from one another. It was like watching Carter and Daniel banter back and forth about some new toy they'd found.

So I suddenly had a craving for writing. For that free association, talk about whatever is in your head and write until your eyes cross and your fingers are numb experience. I also had a craving for McDonald's. Our reading assignments had been Natalie Goldberg's “Writing is not a McDonald's Hamburger” and a selection from Contemporary American Poetry by Ron Wallace which included his “McPoem”. So that's where I headed. 

The banner girls were still at it but I couldn't here Cross Man's ranting anywhere. I missed it somehow. The late summer evening sunshine bouncing off the brightly colored banners with their fire and brimstone messages needed the boisterous accompaniment of his impromptu sermons.

Ah there he was. Talking to mid – 30'sish attractive looking woman wearing a Sheryl Crowe style cowboy hat. She must believe she is going to hell – otherwise why would she be standing there talking to him. Well, it will give me something nice to look at while I'm in hell, not fishing.

I'm walking across the grass enjoying the evening sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass, watching Sheryl Crowe Hat talk to Jesus Freak Cross Man, when I suddenly have an epiphany. Maybe it was the frame of mind I was in. Maybe it was the fact that I had all kinds of thoughts running through my head at the same time and for once they weren't all SG-related. Whatever it was, I suddenly understood why I'd felt the need to come to this campus and sit in a student desk listening to lectures and learning how to do something I thought I'd been doing for 35 years every time I turned in a report. Suddenly I just “got it”.

I was bored, frustrated, jealous and scared. The writing class was an escape. Something to do besides push paper and let the fate of the entire world rest in my hands. Every day I went to that mountain and watched SG teams go off world while I rode a desk. Not just SG-teams in general, but MY SG team- my family- go off and leave me behind. I am not a diplomat, I'm a soldier, and a damn good one, despite my tendency for bucking the rules. I wanted to be in the field, hell, needed to be in the field, but with Hammond off heading Homeworld Security, I had no choice but to accept the promotion. 

Even without the promotion, it wouldn't have been much longer. I would have been forced to take a desk job or retire one way or the other. I'm old. My knees couldn't have taken it much longer, or my back, or my feet. I'm old and worn out, not yet ready to retire and be put out to pasture, but not as quick and agile as I used to be. My reflexes have slowed, and eventually I would have compromised the team. It was time, but dammit, I don't want it to be.

Then there is that whole responsibility thing. When I was a colonel my only command was my own team – or whatever team joined us. If somebody died on my watch I was responsible but there were always other circumstances to justify my command decisions, or to blame for whatever went wrong. Now it's all on me. I am the be all and the end all. The entire program answers to me and if someone dies off world it's my fault whether I was there or not because I'm the guy in charge. That's a lot to deal with. I never envied General Hammond when he had this job, and I'm not sure I want it.

I think the problem is I'm too close to the Stargate. Being right there and watching my fellow soldiers, and former teammates, your family go through the damn thing every day and not being able to join them is killing me. Slowly, agonizingly, but definitely. I think that I need to take George up on his offer. 

He called me at home the other day to have an off the record chat. Said he'd been offered another promotion, but he'd only agree to take it if they put me in charge of Homeworld Security in his place. I'd said no immediately but he stopped me short. He said they didn't need an immediate answer because it was a 'whenever he was ready' type of job, and to take all the time I needed making the decision. 

I think he knew what I was struggling with before I did. I'm good at my job, but it will drive me insane if I don't put some distance between me and that shimmering circle in the gate room. If I want to stay in the Air Force, a position in Washington might be just the thing I need to cope with my new command role.

I won't make my final decision right away, right now my kids need me, they have issues. Teal'c has this whole free Jaffa nation stuff going on. Does he stay or does he go and help them. Seems his decision is as big or bigger than mine.

Carter lost her dad and broke things off with Pete. I'm not sure what the deal is with Pete. I thought they were happy. Maybe losing her dad made here realize something. I don't know. I know I have my suspicions, but ultimately she's a big girl, and she can make her own decisions. I just know that I'm her friend, and I promised to be there for her, so I will be.

Then there's Daniel. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. He died, or rather Ascended, Again, and is acting like he's not sure he's glad to be back. Plus he was pretty fond of Jacob too, so was I. Losing him wasn't easy for any of us. Not when it seems like we just lost Janet. 

Daniel's been trying to spend extra time with Cassie, since Sam is having a rough time getting over Jacob and Pete. Then wham, Catherine Langford dies. He has always had a soft spot in his heart for her. He doesn't let many people in. He did let her in. It's been hard for him, Sam too. I feel for them both.

Daniel is supposed to go to the reading of Catherine's will tomorrow. He doesn't want to go. Doesn't feel worthy of being named in her will. Apparently she left a sizable amount of her artifacts to him. He'll be OK – but I should stay awhile. Make sure he is. They are. Before I leave. 

Maybe I should give Hank Landry a call. Yes, that's what I'll do, first thing Monday morning good ole Hank and I will have a nice chat. Right now however I need to go down to the infirmary to check on the kids and see if Warner thinks they need a babysitter for the weekend. 

They won't go fishing, but I'm thinking a nice pizza and beer weekend with a Star Wars marathon and lots of catching up is just what we need. And I never did make it to Micky D's – got side tracked somewhere along the way. I bet the kids could be enticed by the promise of stopping off for Happy Meals on the way back to my place. They have Hot Wheels and Barbie toys this week. Carter and Daniel will be in hog heaven. Ya sure you betcha!


End file.
